“Satoru, you could have any girl you want!”

It was something practically engraved in his mind. Rich, handsome, powerful—he was the whole package. He had everything, naturally, and naturally, people adored him for it. Girls, boys, everyone.

But who did he choose? His childhood best friend.

The girl who had been with him since birth—literally. Your mothers had planned their pregnancies so that you two would be born on the same day. He came into the world with a built-in best friend, and that was you.

You were different from anyone else he’d ever known, special in a way that felt rare and sacred, that was why he always chose you. Always quiet, always lingering behind him, saying you wanted to go home. You’d pick food off your plate and set it onto his without a word. With him, you were free in a quiet, almost invisible way. He took pride in knowing he was the one who could make you feel safe, as safe as he believed you deserved to be.

So… the only thing he didn’t have was everyone else’s respect for the girl he loved.

“How’s it feel, having a crush on a schizo?”

You weren’t a bad person. Those meds dulled your emotions and made you drowsy all the time; he’d heard they were close in strength to horse tranquilizers. Paired with the way your technique drained calories and energy constantly, you were perpetually tired. He was glad he’d grown up tall—tall enough for you to lean on however you wanted—and he was glad he was strong, because he could take anything you gave him and never complain.

How had the rumors even started?

One winter day, he found you walking—no, stumbling—along the snowy sidewalk. He planned to sneak up behind you and startle you; it would have been easy since you were moving so slowly. But then he saw you drifting toward the street. You stood at the edge, watching the cars, waiting for… something.

It was a good thing he’d left school early that day. Instead of lingering around with Geto, he’d come straight to find you. To pull you back just in time. To keep you from trying to kill yourself.

Was that it? Were you really what they said? He just stood there, frozen, his hand still gripping the back of your collar like he was scruffing a kitten.

Then came the day he saw the scratches on your thighs. Whatever they were. He lay his head between your legs, looking up at you. Maybe the closeness made you uneasy; you’d instinctively lifted your knees to his shoulders. He knew he looked content there, but his eyes kept slipping to your skirt, which, thanks to gravity, had shifted to reveal those lines.

“I have a cat… she’s really aggressive.”

Still, he wanted to stay. Whatever it took. He knew that people like you were sensitive, that you saw the world in a way others didn’t. You noticed details everyone else missed. You were thoughtful in a way that felt rare and real.

He saw it in your gaze, and in the way you’d pause longer than necessary at the vending machine to buy two drinks, one for him—he always asked for a sip. He saw it in the way you’d cup the sharp corner of a table when someone leaned in too close, and how you always waited for anyone who stopped to tie their shoes. But then… why were your eyes so dull?

No one needed to teach you how to care; it was something you did instinctively. And to think, all these years, you’d remained so gentle. Despite everything. Not one bad interaction had dimmed your love for the people around you.

It was a shame that others only saw the rumors. But not Gojo—no, never him. In fact, he only wanted to be closer. Your love for him was something you never stated with words, something you showed in small, natural gestures. And it made him so disgustingly happy. He only needed you more now that everybody was gone.

“I like you.”

He saw your gentleness in the sway of grass, felt the weight of your presence in his own breaths, felt grounded by you, as if he were rooted to the earth itself. You made him feel comfortable in a way no one else ever had.

Your hands were so cold. He’d grown used to it, but only then did a shiver nearly make him turn to look at you. Instead, he kept his eyes fixed on the baby blue sky. It seemed so far away.

“But I don’t think you get it.”